Our auras tell a different story. Each one of us is highly stressed right now – all except Daccia, who remains characteristically emotionless.
We’re anxious about what dangers lie ahead. The Rhino might be some backwoods whorehouse on a rough, frontier planet – but in places like it, there's always the potential for violence.
Throw in another team of Aurelians on the way – who might end up becoming our mortal enemies – and we all need to keep on our toes.
The hotel room we’ve secured is decent, for a shithole planet like Salcus. We’ve got the windows uncovered. Most people use holo-screens instead of looking out at the world around them – what little you can see of it through the thick smoke and smog. They prefer to blind the view with beautiful images of blue waters and paradise island scenes. My triad has never been one to shy away from the ugliness of life – and we gaze out upon it now.
Ugliness. Like being Bonded to a mate none of us trust.
Like being mated to a woman who might disappear at any moment; abandoning us as if we meant nothing to her.
Right now, she’s flirty and playful – and part of our scheme to investigate The Rhino.
But does Allie really want us, as we need her?
Or is it all a façade?
One thing is sure. It’s a hellish world outside. Hadrian is the one standing closest to the window, staring outside, lost in contemplation. Daccia, meanwhile, strokes the hilt of his Orb-Blade. He’s deep in thought too – probably mentally preparing for the upcoming battle of wits with this other triad of Aurelian Law Enforcement agents… and the possibility that it might become a battle of might, instead.
I look out of the window, too. As far as the eye can see, there are nothing but factories and slum houses. The oxygen level of the planet is lower than Old-Earth, and people far below teem like ants through the streets. They wear filters over their faces, but can’t afford the pure oxygen that’s needed to thrive on this dirty, polluted planet.
I’ve read the data reports for this world. The average age of mortality here is just fifty-five for men and fifty-eight for women; and the cause of death is usually from lung disease caused by the harsh, contaminated air.
This is the kind of planet Allie once lived on. What woman would be forged in this cruel fire? Someone strong, someone dangerous, and – above all – someone determined to survive.
I can feel myself growing less trusting of Allie by the moment. Hadrian has the same doubts as I do. Only Daccia seems to have an unshakeable faith that Allie will choose to be with us, in the end.
As I stand there, Allie reaches down to the bed and runs her hand along the fabric of the pleasure dress. It was expensive, especially this far from Colossus, where many Aurelians outfit their entire harems in these teasing dresses. A smile comes to Allie’s face as she lets the fabric entice her fingers, caressing her skin.
“Have you ever seen a dress like this?” I ask.
“No. It’s much… softer than the prison clothes you had for me.”
“It’s more than just soft,” the corner of my mouth curls. “When you put in on, you’ll see what I mean.”
Hadrian snarls: “Keep your mind on the mission, Kitos.”
How ironic. It’s usually always me trying to keep my battle-brothers in a rational state of mind, instead of chasing the nearest woman.
Allie gives me a suspicious glance. She’s right to be suspicious. She must not have known about pleasure dresses – which doesn’t surprise me. They’re too expensive to be given to cash-in-hand strippers on rough frontier planets.
Pleasure dresses are deceptively high-tech. They’re made from a fabric designed to tease and tantalize the skin of the wearer. They’re used primarily in slave auctions, to force the women on the auction block into an artificial state of arousal – to make them appear more attractive to the male buyers. Allie will find she will have difficulty thinking when she slips this dress on. It will immediately put her in a state that will be very… intense for her.
“However it feels, it has to be better than these prison clothes,” Allie scoffs.
“So, try it on,” I challenge – and, with a pout, she takes the dress to the bathroom.
Daccia turns to me with a scowl. “You need to be planning, Kitos – not flirting. I thought you were better than this.”
I’d thought I was better than this, too. It was always usually Daccia and Hadrian who had the biggest appetites for women. Whenever we saved a mining crew from Scorp attacks, or freed a contingent of slaves from the Toads, it was always those two who’d indulge in the sweet ‘thank you’ offered by the grateful women among those we’d freed. I rarely indulged myself.
Now, I feel all the emotions, impulses and urges that I’d once looked down on my battle-brothers for indulging in. I’d once viewed them as apes – and now I am the gorilla.
“Oh… Fuck!”
It’s Allie’s voice, emerging from the bathroom. Her words are a moan. Her aura suddenly pulses with desire – and I know that means she’s pulling off the dress. A moment later she emerges from the bathroom again – still dressed in the rough prisoner’s garments.
“Didn’t like it?”
She winces. “It might be better if I go naked. Gods! The way that fabric touched my body…”
I breathe in. I can sense her arousal. It’s like a perfume – a sweet nectar on my tongue.
“Control yourself,” Daccia telepaths. “We have no time for distraction”
His unspoken words are stern inside my mind. He could have said them out loud and humiliated me in front of Allie. Instead, he sent them silently by thought.
Daccia turns to face us. He’s dressed in one of his sharp, fitted suits. We want to project the image of Rogue Aurelians with too
